


Always, Daisy

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad attempt at dates, Drunken Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, IN SPACE!, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:06:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Set in S5. Fluff and angst in space.





	Always, Daisy

"Why are you being so careful?"

Just a moment before he'd been staring out the port window at the stars, working through this last mission, trying to figure out how they failed.

He swallows when her fingers slide over his bare shoulder and then gently set the bandage in place, over the laser burn there.

She wasn't careful before, out in the field.

She holds the silence between them.

"Because I don’t want to break you," she finally says with a sad smile, eyes flickering up to his.

Again, he moves closer. It's like gravity.

Maybe Daisy has always been a kind of gravity for him.

Separated and then coming together. Over and over again.

She smiles timidly, hiding her surprise as he draws closer, until he's standing where she can't not see him.

Her eyes widen when they meet his, but her fingers move along his skin, up to touch his face, sliding along his cheek in the dim light.

He tries not to shiver.

Still, a holding pattern.

"You won’t break me," he tells her softly, while her eyes shimmer back up at him.

Her quiet breathing tickles his nose, then his lips and when she’s done with her inspection, she closes her eyes and presses her mouth against his, hard.

For a moment he lets himself dream of her wanting something from him. It's almost startling how quickly it happens and then it's over.

Like a small explosion.

Then they separate, dizzied, and unsure. Her hand between them providing a safe distance.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. There are so many things he needs to apologize for.

"Don't apologize," she cuts him off backing away. "It's my fault."

"It's not great timing," he teases, looking down, only to find her palm still pressed against the scar over his heart.

"It's never great timing," she sighs, relaxing, bringing them closer again. "I can't mess this up."

He doesn't have an answer for that. He's been taken over before, controlled by alien forces against his will. Wanting what he didn't need, but thought was necessary.

But always, Daisy.

"I understand," he tells her, taking her hand away from his chest, holding it. "That's why I said I'm sorry."

She looks between them, at her hand in his.

"Maybe when we're back on Earth, when all this is settled-" she starts to lie.

"Sure," he says, forcing a smile. "I'll ask you out, take you to some boring local festival, you'd probably hate it."

"Are you promising to be a bad date?" she smiles, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Or, I can make you dinner, and then the team can interrupt us all night while we pretend we're just hanging out," he teases. "Exchange meaningful glances?"

"We already do that, Coulson," she says, letting go of his hand.

"Phil, at least? I mean, you did just kiss me."

"Experimentally," she clarifies, leaning back against the bulkhead, her face gone sad again. "You seemed like you wanted to be kissed."

  
###

  
"Kiss me."

"Are you sure?" he asks, before she pulls him to her impatiently and makes it happen.

It's a mission, so he commits to it, but it's not as near as electric as that first failed kiss.

This spy stuff seemed so romantic when he first joined SHIELD.

An immature fantasy, and romance became sort of a rushed affair, because, who knows what might happen on the mission?

Then disappointment when he wanted something more real, having to choose between it and SHIELD.

SHIELD won. And then, he died.

"That what they taught you at the Academy?" she teases, letting him go after they've safely blended into the background of holiday revelers.

He realizes he's not talking, that his face feels hot. That he wants her to kiss him again, but this time, mean it.

The idea that she did it once to make him feel better seems totally unfair. That she might regret it, even worse.

But now they’re stuck in the middle of this ecstatic celebration, and the two moons are about to align. Things will go south after that.

The festival crowd starts to push in around them, and they shove past, as Daisy spots the mark, making his way towards the ceremonial dais.

"Isn't this sort of the same way you got your powers?" he mentions over the noise, shoulder to shoulder with her, trying to hold the crowd back so she can move ahead.

"Except I wasn't hoping that a dark moon was going to help me conquer the universe," she grunts, picking up her pace as the ceremony alter starts to glow with dark light.

It's funny that he's not the one with powers, but at the moment she can't use hers and risk exposure. He lights up the shield on his prosthetic and barrels into the crowd ahead of her.

"Go!" he yells at her.

He knows Daisy, he can see the pained expression on her face, but she'll do the right thing.

The crowd starts to swarm him, bury him, he can hardly breathe. Doesn't want to start a fight, it will put too many at risk, start a chain reaction.

All he can see now is the haze of bruised light, at it swallowing everything, the confusion. His brain is throbbing with it, making him curl his limbs inward on instinct.

Then it's still. He opens his eyes and sees Daisy standing over him, people moving away from her in silence.

"You're right," she says, out of breath, holding out her hand. "I don't think I like festivals."

She's holding an object in her other hand, it looks familiar, even on an alien world the Kree have engineered.

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, that she's talking about another conversation, a week ago.

"I didn't mean this kind of festival," he complains, brushing the coal dark dust off his clothes.

The dais just looks like another ruin now, in an old part of the city.

"You still like movies, right?"

  
###

  
"They are kissing," Elena insists.

"How can you tell?" Mack asks, cocking his head sideways, face illuminated by the holo screen.

"All right. I am going to bed," Simmons pronounces, getting up from her seat. "Since no one seems to want a more scientific opinion right now, I’ll offer it in the morning."

"Whose idea was this anyway?" Mack says, as he looks over pointedly. At him.

He shrugs and glances at Daisy, sitting on the other side of the room, giving him a knowing stare.

"It was on the recommended list," he replies, uncrossing his legs and leaning to grab the tablet to hand it up to Mack.

"See?" Elena says. "Now they are cuddling."

"Just remember, someone's got a knife in one of those tentacles," Mack tells her gesturing towards the screen.

"I think it's a noir," Coulson suggests. "I mean, whatever they call noir out here."

"Noir?" Mack laughs and finally takes the tablet from him. "Let me look at this list." He pauses, then hands it back. "Can't read it."

"Neither can he, " May mentions.

It's true. "There's no translation, because it's silent," he retorts.

"Expand your minds, people," Elena agrees, as Coulson give her a grateful nod of his head.

He just used the onboard archive to request alien films that won awards. They've been watching uninterrupted for a couple of hours now, sequestered at home base.

That never happens.

"It's pornography," Simmons announces, reappearing in her sleep clothes. "The award-winning kind."

"The music is nice," Daisy grins, glancing up at her and they both start to laugh.

"I thought you were going to offer your opinion in the morning?" Coulson grouses, turning over his shoulder to look at Simmons.

"Mack," May says, the corner of her mouth turning up. "Find something that looks like it has explosions."

"Explosions coming right up," Mack agrees, taking the tablet back from him and swiping through the list.

He watches Daisy get up from her seat and sighs, as she walks around the outer edge of the room.

"Always an adventure, Phil," she says, patting his shoulder from behind and giving it a little squeeze. "Goodnight all."

He can tell that she's smiling, though, and sure, it's at his expense, but at least there's that.

Then her hand is gone and her along with it, as he stares ahead past the paused screen.

That's when he notices them staring at him, and realizes he's smiling.

"What?" he asks, pretending to be oblivious.

  
###

  
"This was your idea, not mine," he mutters, seemingly to himself.

"Just do your thing," she says in his ear.

He is good at flirting. He can pretty much flirt with anyone, anywhere. Get them talking, give him information.

He's been told he has one of those faces.

People also assume SHIELD taught him how to do that. That they taught him how to work people over.

Nope. He's a natural.

Sometimes he even hides behind it, which is useful. Fury saw right through it. And Daisy, he thinks, looking at the empty seat beside him.

The music swells again and he tries to not get restless in his seat. At the fancy clothes and opulence below him, with people poised in their seats as the singer begins.

It's beautiful, something this culture is known for, and people come from everywhere to witness it.

It moves him, he feels his eyes starting to glisten involuntarily. Daisy was all chatter before but now she gets quiet, too.

"It's beautiful," she says to him.

He wishes she could see it. That she was here with him in the private box. That it wasn't just a mission.

His mark returns to his seat, and he gives him a charming smile, looking over at his face while he settles in his seat. He should have been passed the information they need to acquire now.

"It's quite moving," the alien leans in to tell him. "Have you ever heard its like before?"

"No," he replies, focusing back on the mission at hand. He's a politician, there are several actors here, not just on the stage, moving parts all necessary to a Kree power balance.

"Some even consider it hypnotic," he goes on.

"Tell him to keep his hypnosis to himself," Daisy chimes in.

"It stirs up longing," he replies to the ambassador thoughtfully. "For things unanswered."

"I'm afraid I'm used to getting exactly the answers I need," he smiles back. "It makes your people so curious to me, how you almost revel in your ignorance."

He hears Daisy's groan vibrate through his ear. "Just shoot him and get it over with."

She's right, he's totally ruined this moment.

"Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul. And sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all."

"How very quaint," the ambassador laughs, confused just as he'd hoped, watching him stand. "You have this hope with feathers?"

"She's been talking to me this whole time."

He opens his evening jacket, and reaches inside, then takes the shot.

The ambassador slumps into his seat, unconscious, while he pats down over his decorated coat to find what he's looking for.

"Daisy?" he asks, securing the data file in his own coat. "You still there?"

"Um, yeah," she says. "Never left."

"It is beautiful," he says, pausing for a moment to listen before the song is finished.

  
###

  
"I just want something nice," she says, her hand twisting in his shirt. "To have a nice thing."

He looks down at her. Somehow, Daisy is very, very drunk.

"You're the only nice thing I have," she says, with a sudden sob. "And I can't even-"

"Hey," he says, taking her arm by the elbow. "Let's get you to your room."

She nods and lets him guide her through the hallway, until they're at the door to her quarters.

"What did you drink?" he asks, as he manages to get the door open while holding her up.

"It was that bottle that we picked up, at the market on Xandar," she sighs. "May didn't even blink an eye!"

"Yeah, don't ever try to outdrink May," he chuckles at her. "Maybe it's because you're Inhuman?"

"I thought about that," she says, lifting a finger. "But then I forgot, and drank more. Stupid."

He helps her sit on the edge of the bed, then pulls back the covers.

"Dinner was great," she says with a sigh, watching him fuss about the room.

"You're welcome," he says with a small smile, looking up at her. "I thought we should celebrate being home. You were celebrating. Don't feel bad."

Reaching for her pillow, he starts to fluff it while she attempts to take her boots off.

"You're," she pauses, her mouth open, watching him. "Stop. Why can't you just be a jerk, for once?"

"I can be a jerk, you know that," he tells her, his eyes flickering up, and bends down to help unlace her boot.

"Remind me," she tells him, leaning back on her arms, and perching her foot on his bended knee.

"I've hidden things from you, that I shouldn't have," he starts, lifting her foot to slip the boot off and set it on the floor.

"What a loaded statement," she blurts out, as he meets her eyes. "Do you like flowers?" she suddenly asks, changing the subject.

"Sure," he smiles, taking her other foot in his hands. "Flowers are nice."

"I'm sorry," she says, flopping back down against the bed. "I've ruined your dinner. You should be celebrating. I ruin things."

He stands and stares at her, holding her gaze until she has to look away. He hopes that she gets the message.

"What kind of flowers?" she asks, as he helps her to get under the covers of the bed.

"I like to be surprised," he tells her, pulling the blanket up over her.

She pulls it up tight around her neck, and turns to shift to her side as he touches her shoulder, then walks away.

"Jerk," she calls after him, her voice sounding suddenly sleepy.

"I know," he says, as he stops at the door and watches her before he switches off the lights.

  
###

  
"I thought daises would be too literal."

He raises his eyebrows and stands up from where he's leaning over the monitor to see her holding out an envelope to him.

Seeing her here is unexpected, she's supposed to be planet-side.

Still, he's willing to embrace the unexpected. Especially when it comes to her.

She holds her hands in front of her, while he opens it and slips the little card inside out.

"The Arvin Wildflower Festival," he says, looking at the tickets inside of it.

"You said you liked to be surprised," she says with a shy smile. "I figured we could have an adventure."

"I thought you didn't like festivals," he answers, putting one hand on his hip, his smirk becoming a smile.

He doesn't think he can pull off being cool right now, he's too touched.

"I've warmed up to the idea of boring, local festivals," she says smoothly, moving closer to him to take the card from his hand, and setting it behind him on the station.

His eyes widen, and his face feels impossibly hot. "Are you promising to be a bad date?" he asks hopefully.

"No," she answers, falling into his arms, her weight like gravity. "For once, I think I've found something I can't mess up."

She wraps her arms around his middle, and squeezes.

This time, he kisses her first.

On her forehead, then her temple, and cheek. She pulls back just far enough to look into his eyes before he presses his mouth to hers.

They start off slow, then stumble backwards until they're against the bulkhead. He can see streaks of starlight from behind his closed eyes and he wants to believe it's like an explosion, not the light outside the port window.

He chases the warmth of her, her kisses getting deeper, richer, wanting more, pulling his weight against her. He pushes back, and she sighs his name into his mouth.

Her hands yank down his zipper, to get inside his jacket, under his shirt, making contact. Skin against skin, everywhere. He knows how badly he needs her, but feeling her wanting him, is too much and not enough at the same time.

For a moment he flinches against the cold, unzipping her jacket, a proposition, and she puts her fingers against his lapels, and strips his jacket down his arms, tossing it to the floor.

Her answer. He helps her out of her own, and then starts fumbling to undo the belt at her waist, stopping to run his hands along the goosebumps raising on her arms.

"It's cold up here," he tells her. "We're still working out the base environmental controls."

"Okay," she answers, and then gives him an open mouthed kiss. "I bet the engine room isn't."

"I bet you're right," he says, raising an eyebrow at her, as her arms settle around his neck.

"This is a nice look on you," she says appraisingly. "I should've told you that before."

He takes one of her cold hands, ducking his head to kiss her fingers warm again.

"Your kisses happen to look really good on me."

She laughs, then bends to hand up their jackets.

He's pulled along with her out into the corridor.

 


End file.
